"A karaoke night to remember"

Sometimes life throws up this amazing pair of experiences. Literally on the extremes. Yesterday was one such night. Upon invitation (not that I needed) from Anita Bora "The Oracle" of the blog world (http://www.anitabora.com/), I joined her in Opus a karaoke garden bar with step seating, white cushions and candle lit ambience. It was the typical metrosexual's haunt. Anyway I was feeling queasy and decided to double check with Anita, if this was the same place. It was and I finally spotted her. There was Bunty a fresh new face (literally) and Suman. I did recognise him but couldn’t get where and when we had met. He also went on an endless loop on seeing my face. It was like the windows program gone bad and the hour glass is perennially rotating. I could see the hourglass on his face in slow motion. Anyway we settled in and the beers arrived. At least there is something that fits in with me. Before no time, I was comfy with the place (I am changing already).

I tried deciphering the equations across the tables. What brings Anita the blog queen, Bunty the whiz kid and Suman (The The The ok whatever) on the same table? A few gulps down and a lot of listening got me a ton of blogger tips and I eventually got it, everyone was a blogger !!!.. I know half the world would have gone "Dumbo" , but hey I come with windows 3.1 preloaded and I am totally out of step with what’s happening.

Meanwhile there came the caricaturist. A typical KCP guy, who had the gift of the gab. He caricatured the handsome Suman and produced the most grotesque looking large chinned cartoon that dint even look like him. I dint want to be so blunt with the comment especially in front of the artist, but seriously Suman should think twice before framing it. After all a frame costs 300 bucks and the cartoon costs 75 bucks. Is it wise to put good money behind bad ???

Bunty - Bong who doesn’t drink !!! "Crap, there is no such thing", that’s what I thought. Where else but in bong-land would you get a peg of Old Monk for 8 bucks in a theatre that too.... The good thing is he is on his way to some US university. He is going to rock and roll for sure. Some sexual healing ;) . Wish him the very best. Do continue your post and kindly be a little more candid :D. It has always been my dream to watch "Pather Panchali" with Old Monk in my hand.

Dr. Chitra, Suman's wife came in and instantly recalled where we had met earlier. BTW, I had figured it out much earlier and on my own ok..(5 mins after meeting suman) and Suman's hour glass was still on. Chitra's memory was impressive. She even remembered what we ordered that day in Pizza Hut... my only response was "Suman, watch out"...

The crowd started streaming in slowly. All kinds of people walked in, some young, some old, some drunk in love and some drunk… In no time the whole place was full. The beer calmed my nerves. A couple of gulps, it was time for another one!! When the big show started.

There it was, an opener by some of the organizers and Romolacola was up on stage and belted out some song about love, McGee etc. etc. in perfect voice, rhythm and poise. I was stunned by the whole performance. Then came Anoopa, a thorough professional who deftly adjusted the mike from her face as she went high... The night was just getting started... Singer after singer after singer some professional and good and some real bad belted out love numbers which included "Bye Bye Miss American Pie".. Now I have some rancid feelings about this song. The last time I heard this song was in Jersey years back when five of us benchers shared a car and gloomy "days inn" lodging. One of them used to play this song everyday from hotel to office. Damm those bench days, I am sick of it. And this song epitomised all that was wrong with my life then. I get sick in my stomach every time I hear this song. I can even remember the turns the road took when the song meandered through the lyrics. And that fellow bencher of ours who we all hated used to play this song twice. He was the only guy who knew how to drive and would rock his head from left to right rhythmically as the lyrics went "Bye Bye Miss American Pie". This was the low point of the whole night.

There was one brave guy who bleated out a song named "Day sleepers". It embarrassed the shit out me and crashed all thoughts of going up there to sing. He was part of this large crowd who cheered through the embarrassment. I wished I had a couple of such people cheering me when I lift some iron. Then came a couple of enthusiastic ladies (especially the one in yellow) who just forgot to switch on the mike. It was nice watching the one in yellow; she was more dancing than singing.

By the time "The Oracle" said, ok let’s call it a night I was numb hearing all those songs of love, pain. I even felt a small change legitimising all that "singing the heart out" people were doing. A couple of months back, I would have said, "what crap". But today was a dose well beyond what I can handle.. or maybe I have changed, become true metrosexual... or maybe the beer was spiked, I would know tomorrow. We then went to Garibon ka saathi Empire for some parota, dosa and by the time I dropped Bunty and hit the bed it was close to 12.30.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRr... the alarm roared and I woke up to reality... Instinctively I mumbled to myself....

"I am an animal. I need to train. When I put on my shoes for training, it’s like turning on a switch. I become a creature, not a human. I look to tear apart anyone and everyone in my way to hugeness and I don't care how I do it. I can feel my heart start jumping and my body saying "Beat me into the ground like a red-headed step child, I want punishment. I want to be a freak, a FREAK I TELL YOU!!"

Slowly I made it to the kitchen and gulped half a liter of milk. I put on my shoes and I was off to an hour of intense work out. Today is chest day, I want to annihilate myself totally before getting my ass back home.

Rakesh was there sweating it out on the tracks when I entered. Rakesh is my Iron buddy... the meanest sadist in town. He lifts a ton everyday (10x4 fucking sets of 30 Kilos) makes him big. When we met first time, I was struggling at 10 kilos and requested him to spot for me. The MoFo upped it to 15 when I wasn’t looking and almost destroyed me. His response was "Hey no mercy between Iron brothers".

I want to grow big. If not like Arnold or Mike Metzner atleast big enough to give me snake tattoo some room to move.Somehow things are back to normal, so normal I can look back and say "What a freaky night"... But the comment that takes it all came from Bunty..

In one of this moments a true and genuine emotion spills out right out of buunty's mouth.

He goes,"I have come to the conclusion that the opposite sex is a complete bitch !!"

I just laugh quietly and say to myself as Jedi master Yoda does "Little Bunty Skywalker much pain he is in "..

I like it...